“I have no desire and no intention to hurt someone who shouldn’t even be in the middle of this,” Emilio replies, his smirking amusement falling to the wayside as his eyes harden. “It’s beyond the pale that a civilian was brought into this in the first place.”
The quiet reprimand only serves to make me angrier. My fingers clench around the handle of my gun. “You’re one to talk, considering you’re the most likely source of her attack.”
“Most likely, yes,” he agrees, “but the right culprit? No.” Emilio Cesari shakes his head and releases a sigh. “I have more than enough to deal with. I can understand why you’d have me at the top of your list of suspects, considering the background between our families, Giulio, but you’re wrong. I could’ve killed her when I came upon her. She didn’t even know who I was, and I can be quite unassuming when I want to be.” He withdraws one hand from a pocket and gestures down to his wardrobe. I have to admit, he’s not wrong.
The man appears all-American. There’s not even a hint of Italian in his accent as there is sometimes with Dante. Not because my brother was raised in Italy—no, because the man who raised him had been, and children often pick up the accents of their parents.
“Then why did you approach her?” I demand.
“To get to you, of course.” Emilio’s hand disappears back into his pocket, and I have the distinct impression that letting him do so is a dangerous move, but we’re locked in a cold war of sorts, he and I. He’s close to my home with Daisy, and he got to heronce. Letting him go free leaves open the chance that he’ll get to her again. Killing him, however, would have other repercussions, and I am not the head of Luciani. I cannot make that call.
Emilio takes one step forward. With my back against the only exit, I do nothing but arch a brow at the action. “I want a meeting with Don Luciani, Giulio,” he says, his tone full of serious intent. “You can make that happen.”
“What makes you think I would let you anywhere near him?”
“Because, unlike you, I do know who’s trying to kill your wife.”
Those words silence me. A ringing starts in my ears, growing in volume as our gazes lock. Using all of the skills I picked up as both a street kid and then as Stefano Luciani’s adopted son, I search his face for any hint of deceit. Emilio Cesari meets my gaze head-on, something that not even many of the oldercaposin Luciani’s employ are able to do. Damn it. I respect the son of a bitch for the boldness.
“I promise nothing,” I tell him, but as I speak, I arch away from the doorway and carefully put my gun back into the holster at the small of my back before flipping the tail of my suit coat over it. “And I will not take you to him now.”
Emilio nods as if he expected that answer. “I will return to my family.” When next he pulls his hand out, it’s not to reveal a weapon, but a card. I take it without looking at it. I already know what it will have. His personal number. “Call me when the meeting is set, and we can discuss a truce between our two families.”
“Truce?” I tilt my head to the side. “That’s asking quite a bit.”
“It has to start somewhere,” he replies, “and as the new head of Cesari, I decide that it will start with me.”
“Perhaps.”
Emilio nods to the door. “You going to let me out of here now?” he inquires.
I consider it. The gun anchored at my back is still there, a heavy weight. Much like my desire to slaughter anyone who looks at Daisy or puts her in any sort of danger, the weapon is a noose around my neck. Emilio smiles as if he can sense the direction of my thoughts.
“To think,” he comments lightly, “the infamous guard dog of Luciani would fall so hard for a bride he never intended to marry.”
His words tell me, as much as his actions, that Emilio Cesari is not like his uncle at all. No. This man is smarter than that old, violent badger. He’s a fox, conniving and sneaky. Stepping to the side, I gesture toward the door.
“You may leave,” I tell him, “and I will let you know what the Don’s response is.”
“You should encourage him to make the decision sooner rather than later,” Emilio says as he moves forward. He pauses as he draws up to my side, and his gaze collides with my own. “I did not take this approach because I wanted to threaten you.” The reveal is a surprise, but he’s not done talking. “Luciani has a mole, and I knew the only ones that could be trusted were the Don and his sons.”
With that, he’s out the door, leaving me with an aching rage that permeates my chest along with something else… dread.
“Where are we going?” Daisy’s question is tight with concern as, half an hour later, I usher her into the town car that Alonzo and I had abandoned at the curb.
Alonzo places a hand on the hood of the car and vaults over it to get to his door faster rather than try to squeeze through the inches between him and the overlarge Land Rover in front of us. Pushing my palm flat against Daisy’s head to finish getting her inside the vehicle, I slide in next to her.
“Seat belt,” I order.
She reaches for it, her gaze locked on me as I type out a quick text to Dante to meet us at the Luciani Family Estate. The snick of her seat belt clicking into place is mixed with the sound of the car’s engine turning over. Despite the closeness of the Land Rover, Alonzo is a professional and manages to get us out of the spot and onto the road in no time at all. Still, my heart continues to hammer until I feel a cool touch on the back of my knuckles.
Jerking my head to the side, I meet Daisy’s eyes beneath her furrowed brow. “Giulio?” Her hand is moving over mine, soft fingers touching the scars there. “What’s going on?”
I contemplate my words for several long seconds, and in those seconds, I find myself turning my hand over and letting her weave her fingers together with my own. That simple touch, so normal to most people, does me in. Perhaps this marriage started out with different intentions, but I’ve seen this woman covered in blood and gore, and I’ve also seen her bare. She is stronger than she appears, braver than one might assume for her age, and far more unhinged than her name might lead one to think. Daisy is the name of an innocent.
This Daisy, however—my Daisy—is anything but.
“That was Emilio Cesari,” I tell her. “He’s the new head of a rival Syndicate that we share the territory of New York with. He’s dangerous.”
